


Search & Destroy in the Jar of Flies

by In_The_Shade



Category: Halo (Video Games) & Related Fandoms
Genre: Guerrilla Warfare, Jungle Environment, Original planet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 08:02:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29913873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/In_The_Shade/pseuds/In_The_Shade
Summary: Dagger platoon's first squad hits an obstacle during their trek to their rendezvous point and faces the harsh reality of the jungle.(This is a teaser/Introduction of sorts for a series I'm working on at the moment. I initially wrote this as an attempt to get myself back in the writing groove but I liked it too much. When this scene does finally appear in a larger work, it'll most definitely be changed in certain areas to fit into a larger chapter. I can't promise anything will be finished soon but I just wanted to get something out for my own peace of mind. As a result, this fic is much shorter than I usually try for but I'm still happy with how it turned out.)
Kudos: 2





	Search & Destroy in the Jar of Flies

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks once again to my editor Rascally_Lass  
> You rock!

The early morning light twisted and turned through the jungle’s dense canopy in a brilliant radiance, glistening off the plant-life, soaked by the prior rain less than thirty minutes before. Thunder sounded from off in the distance, emanating from the now retreating cumulonimbus clouds. The once sheltering insect and wildlife were finally safe to emerge from their hiding spots to bask in the newfound sunny warmth. The sight was a far cry from the violence that had been plaguing the frontier colony world of Esperance for almost five months. For no amount of rain could ever hope to wash away the blood that had been spilled.

About a dozen humanoid figures slowly trudged their way through the early hours of sun and heat, clad in armor sporting shades of greens, blacks, and browns, and carrying weapons completely alien to the landscape. The figures at the front of the loose formation rhythmically hacked and slashed at the overgrowth while those behind stuck to the trail they had hastily created through the brush. Though soaked through to the bone and caked in mud, they pushed on, determined to reach the rally point before another downpour could rear its ugly head and further complicate their already dangerous journey. 

With a raise of the lead figure’s fist, the Squad of Marines halted their advance and crouched down to take up defensive postures in front of a particularly treacherous, jagged, and visually restrictive outcropping. The lead Staff Sergeant turned around and waved to his radio operator with a gesture to approach. With a silent nod, Tech-Sergeant Chelsea Caldwell got up and carefully walked over, making sure to stay low so as not to silhouette herself. She readied the handset connected to her back carried unit as she knelt down in the muck beside her squad leader, further dirtying her knee-pads. The Staff Sergeant silently accepted the handset and pulled out his datapad, scanning the Blue-Force tracker and its tactical maps before keying the handset.

“Index, this is Dagger-One Actual, Over,” he stated, waiting for the inevitable response.

“This is Index, Send traffic, Over,” The voice crackled through the handset.

“Index, this is Dagger-One Actual, we are approximately half a click from the rally point at grid reference Two-Two-Four-Seven-Niner-Three but we have some squirrely terrain ahead,  _ break _ , requesting recon support from a scout drone to map out a good path, Over.”

The voice on the other end came on once more with a curt, “Dagger-One Actual, this is Index, wait one.”

At the back of the formation, two of the Marines were kneeling in a particularly overgrown patch of flora. Their already camo-painted faces and combat uniforms meshing almost perfectly with the surrounding greenery. 

“Hey, Nora,” Lance-Corporal Jedburgh whispered through the bush separating him from his friend, “you think we’re lost again?” Corporal Arnhem only shrugged at her companion as she slowly traversed her old BR-55 Rifle to the right to scan the distant brush line. Jedburgh, seemingly unsatisfied with the non-committal answer, lowered his rifle and whisper-yelled a quick, “Repositioning,” to the surrounding Marines before tracing a path backward and to the side, coming to a crouch beside Arnhem.

They met each other’s gazes for a brief moment before raising their rifles to scan the messy terrain once more. “No, Bill, I don’t think we’re lost,” her smoke-tinted voice said with a shake of her head and an annoyed sigh.

Jedburgh winced at her obvious displeasure but continued anyway, “How much ‘y gunna bet?”

Arnhem chuckled quietly before nudging her friend, “What is up with you and gambling, you bumpkin?”

“Jus’ shootin’ the shit,” he smirked.

“Whatever, dude,” Arnhem looked through her medium-ranged sight and at the dense wilderness that engulfed the squad with mercilessly thick vegetation and sporadic rainstorms. 

“You know,” Hospital Corpsman Third Class Avery whispered from his unseen position on the other side of a bush behind them. “The sexual tension between you two,  _ and I say this as a friend,  _ is  _ really _ distracting me. And the others,” he quickly added in amusement. 

Arnhem rolled her eyes before re-sighting her Battle Rifle and continuing her scan of the perimeter.

Back at the front, the squad Leader was met with some troublingly annoying news. “Dagger-One Actual this is Index, that’s a negative on recon support request at this time, break, no surveillance drones or air assets are available for tasking, how copy?”

The Staff Sergeant cursed under his breath and keyed the handset once more, “Index this is Dagger-One Actual, solid-copy on all. Will expedite to current objective, out.” The Marine sighed and handed the handset back to his Caldwell who placed it securely back into its cradle.

“What now, sir?” She queried to the exhausted man.

“I’m not gonna risk the whole squad just because command has their head up their ass,” he quietly griped before looking back at his most trusted squad leader, “Sergeant Hunter,” he whisper-yelled to get the man’s attention, “Take Bravo team and scout the area ahead. Watch out for snipers and trip-mines.”

“Yes, sir,” Hunter whispered confidently and whistled everyone to attention, “Jedburgh, Avery, Briggs,” he motioned as they approached, “We’re oscar-mike to reccy the area up ahead. Any objections?” Hunter scanned his three Marines’ camouflaged faces to find some nervousness behind their eyes, but they otherwise stayed silent. “Okay, let’s get moving Devil Dogs.”

“Oorah!” the three quietly answered in unison as they began a slow and steady crouch walk through the brush.

Arnhem glanced at the leaving Fireteam-Bravo and whispered out loud but to no one in particular: “Right behind you, Bill.”

The Staff Sergeant watched in silent anxiousness as the four Marines slowly disappeared into the Overgrowth that engulfed the rock formation in front of them. Once Bravo team left his sight, he turned his head to look at his remaining eight Marines in their jagged defensive perimeter. Though he couldn’t directly see them all through the flora, the cyan diamonds denoting friendlies on his helmet’s Heads-Up-Display filled in the gaps for the Lead. He turned back around and wasn’t surprised to see the blue IFF tags of Bravo Team had disappeared behind the rocks. To compensate for his lack of visibility, the Lead looked down at his Blue-Force tracker and watched as four blue dots left a larger cluster of eight more blue dots, and a white dot denoting himself for an adjacent grid square. A grid square with the rally point marked by yellow and grey circles. Beyond that was an adjacent squad of thirteen more blue dots slowly making their way from the opposite side of the rendezvous. 

The lead nudged his radio operator who instinctively un-holstered the handset and handed it to him. As he glided his finger over to the map legend, he searched for the other unit’s callsign and frequency. 

_ Bingo! _ He thought as he acquired the only other unit listed in the Area of Operations. One Ripper-Three on UHF 78.1.He reached over to his Marine’s radio unit and dialed the new frequency in before activating the handset, “This is Dagger-One Actual, radio check, over.”

“Ripper-Three Actual to Dagger-One Actual, you’re coming in loud and clear, over.” A feminine voice answered his hail with a calm and cool demeanor before the transmission ended.

“Copy that Ripper-Three Actual, be advised: one of my fireteams is blazing a trail through some rough terrain obstructing our path, over.”

“Solid copy on all Dagger-One Actual, will keep an eye out, over,” she answered.

“Roger, we’ll make the rendezvous in a little over forty mikes, that’s four-zero mikes, over.”

“Solid copy on all, over and out.”

The squad lead dialed the radio back to the unit’s frequency and hailed Sergeant Hunter one more time, “Dagger-One Bravo, this is Dagger-One Actual, report status, over.”

The response was slightly fuzzy due to the tall rocks separating the teams, but it was ultimately clear enough to make out, “Copy that, Actual, this is Dagger-One Bravo, we’ve come to the exit of the rock formation, break, be advised: there is a medium-sized ravine inside the rock formation that could be used as a possible choke-point. I suggest you either find a way around or booby trap it on your way through, over.”

“Solid copy, complete your reccy and we’ll be oscar-mike, over.”

“Affirmative. Dagger-One Bravo, out.”

The Lead would much rather  _ not _ go through a possible ambush location but they don’t have much time to waste if they want to make the Rendezvous and complete their mission in time. Thunder off in the distance only served as a reminder of why  _ exactly  _ they wanted to not be outside much longer. The rain on this planet was sporadic but relentless and would bog down the assault teams too much. The time to act was now. 

A single distinct crack from a Covenant Beam Rifle in the distance followed by the chatter of Marine rifles broke the squad’s attention. The squad looked in the direction of the shots to a flock of the strange birds that populated the planet scattering above them in every direction. Soon after, the professional but audibly distressed voice of Sergeant Hunter filled the ears of the team leaders on the frequency, “Dagger-One Actual this is Dagger-One Bravo, we have taken contact from a sniper, Jedburgh is down, status unknown, break, you’re clear all the way to our position but we need fire support to clear out this spider-hole, over.”

“Affirmative, Dagger-One Bravo, we’re expediting our advance to you now, be there in less than five mikes, over,” The lead exclaimed as he gestured to his men to follow him before he charged head-long into the brush and through the rocks.

As Fireteam Charlie’s lead, Corporal Arnhem heard the whole interaction. And as much as she wanted to confirm Jedburgh’s status, she needed to help save her fellow Marines first. The nine Marines pushed on through the rocks, through the ravine, and through the seemingly endless jungle with one thought in mind: No-one gets left behind. Dead or alive.

The sounds of gunfire in the distance soon tapered off to nothing, instead replaced by the natural sounds of the wilderness and the ever-encroaching booms of thunder. Branches and vines ripped at them as they ran through the underbrush but when they arrived at the scene, They found Sergeant Hunter’s upper right torso and head covered in crimson-red blood. Despite his appearance of being injured, Hunter still had his MA5c Assault Rifle leveled and ready to fire. Lance-Corporal Briggs had his own Assault Rifle leveled and was mirroring his team lead’s defensive posture. Avery however was sitting on a tree log next to a humanoid figure, Submachine Gun sat against the log while the Corpsman held a cloth against his mouth. The Sailor looked at the approaching Marines with a sorrowful look and Arnhem knew exactly what had transpired.

Corporal Arnhem looked down at her fallen comrade to see half of his face gone and jaw hanging loosely from the intact side, his helmet was laying right next to him with scorch marks and various damages littering the left side of the helmet. His death was gruesome, but at least it would’ve been quick. The Marines began to crowd around the corpse, looks of hate and disgust visible on their faces. Arnhem could only stare at the mess helplessly, a brother in arms and her best friend was gone in the blink of an eye, and she wasn’t even there to stop it. 

“Bill, you…” She struggled on her words for a moment, “You son-of-a-bitch.”

Once she uttered those words, it felt like she had somehow confirmed the obvious or doomed him in some unthinkable and unseen way. 

“Okay, guys,” a mournful voice from behind her announced, “Let’s give him some space.”

Arnhem didn’t move. She couldn’t. She may as well have had her muddy boots nailed to the clearing’s floor. 

She felt an arm gently wrap around her left shoulder and fingers grip her right hand as the soft and soothing voice of their only other Hospital Corpsman—a man named Santiago—began to speak what felt like nonsense to her. They moved to sit down beside a stray boulder before the Doc stood up and approached Sergeant Hunter who still sat in a prone position on the forest floor.

“Hey, Sarge,” the Sailor addressed the Marine in his best soothing voice, “I’m gonna check you over, alright?”

Hunter got up to a crouch position and touched a palm to his helmet. Bringing his gloved hand to his face, he saw the khaki and green fabric coated in a layer of red. Snapped awake by the sight, he turned around to face the Corpsman with a look of relief and horror. “It’s not mine,” he shuddered, “It’s Bill’s.”

“Okay,” Santiago said, still using his calm voice, “Well I’m at least gonna help you clean it off.” Hunter nodded and walked away with the Sailor. 

Arnhem looked up as the duo passed by before scanning her surroundings. Mueller and Caldwell were in cover while they talked to someone from command. The rest of Alpha team began to comb the area for any trace of the sniper. Everyone else who wasn’t already preoccupied had set up a loose three-hundred and sixty-degree perimeter in the clearing. Once she felt that she was stable enough, Arnhem grabbed her Rifle and joined the perimeter. She watched from her own position while the trio of Marines meticulously searched the foliage until one stopped to tap her helmet mic. Having the others’ attention now, she quickly gestured downward to what Arnhem assumed was the sniper's spider hole. The closest man to her—

Private First Class Tamamuro—readied a fragmentation grenade while the Team leader provided cover from a short distance away. The duo stood close and nodded their heads in a silent countdown before the PFC dropped in the grenade. 

“Frag out!” he yelled as they dove for cover. A couple seconds later, an explosion ripped through a cluster of bushes close to the detonation point. Alpha regrouped before approaching the bushes. They stopped, guns drawn on the bush, and the team lead resumed his careful approach. He hesitated for a moment, but in one swift motion, he ripped back the foliage to reveal a small crater poking out of a previously unseen hill that bordered the small clearing. They hovered over the now smoldering hole for a moment before the lead raised a thumb up to everyone else in the clearing. “Dry hole, all clear!”

Twenty minutes later, Ripper-Three would join their perimeter and the rain would begin to drench the clearing and all residing. About ten minutes after that, a Nightingale Med-evac would arrive to pick up Jedburgh’s body bag and fly him to nowhere. 

Everyone wished this wasn’t as common an occurrence as it really was. Every day spent in the jungle was another heavy transport’s worth of Infantrymen and women like those in Dagger platoon dead.

Whether it was artillery, airstrikes, snipers, or even the treacherous jungle itself, life expectancy and morale for deployed units was almost as low as it was during the war. It was rarely a straight fight either. It was almost always a trap of some sort or a sniper picking off a Marine before disappearing into the jungle. But if this planet were to ever be safe and thriving again, the UNSC needs to succeed. Even if they were to win, they still need answers as to why an entire faction of Covenant is out in the frontier. 

For now, though, both squads of Marines had to push to their target with one man gone. A twenty-five-strong assault team will have to do for now.

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> My schedule is basically non-existent at the moment but I'll try my best to balance this and my Mass Effect fic. Feel free to leave feedback. I'm 100% open to constructive criticism.


End file.
